Inconvenient Wounds
by fezzesarecool1234
Summary: One-shot. Small Sherlock whump, I was bored. Sherlock solves a fairly easy crime, but, at the last possible minute, he jump into the line of fire. Sorry, crappy summary, but - oh just read it!


**Disclaimer: These characters and the show unfortunately do not belong to me. I'm just playing around with them.**

* * *

"John."

"Yes?"

"Come here a moment."

John walked over to where Sherlock was sitting, peering into a microscope. They were in the morgue laboratory, searching the evidence of their latest case for clues. Sherlock was examining a sample of brick dust that the victim had on her shoes when she was found. The body was found in an alleyway, and Sherlock quickly deduced that the murder had taken place elsewhere, due to the lack of rain on the front of her coat.

"The body is laying face-down on the ground, indicating that had she been killed here, she would have been soaked through. However, the front of her coat is only damp, whereas the back is sopping wet. She was obviously murdered elsewhere, and the killer dumped her body here." Sherlock deduced, quickly explaining to Detective inspector Lestrade. "It's rather obvious really." Sherlock boasted while Lestrade stood to the side rather awkwardly.

"Right, er, thanks. So, where was she killed?" the DI asked, bending down to examine the body himself.

"No, no. Step away. I need room to think. Anderson, would you kindly step back about oh, twenty yards or so. I can't work with your incompetence soiling the air in which I breathe." Sherlock hissed, his dislike for the forensic scientist dripping through his teeth. Anderson scowled and began to protest when Lestrade interrupted and pointed away from the scene.

"Just go." He sighed, resigned to the fact that Sherlock and Anderson would never work together. Anderson trudged away reluctantly, throwing hateful glares behind his shoulder. Sherlock pulled out his small inspecting glass, and leaned towards the body, eyes scouring every inch of the corpse. He immediately deduced unnecessary information about the victim while he examined her body. "29, father deceased, sister engaged, etc." John stepped forward, interested in what he could find. Sherlock put his hand up to stop John from joining him.

"Shut up."

"We haven't even said anything!" Lestrade defended.

"You were thinking, breathing, and moving. It's all too loud. I need silence." Sherlock said. Lestrade just scowled at him and walked away.

"John, come here. What do you see?" Sherlock motioned for John to join him. As he did, Sherlock swept to the shoes of the woman, and quickly pulled out a small, plastic baggie.

"What's that for?" John asked. Sherlock gave him his "stop talking, brain thinking hush" face and John quieted. Sherlock pulled out his small tweezers and began gently pulling at something in the sole of the woman's shoes. He placed the material in the bag and pocketed the evidence. Sherlock stood up and motioned for John.

"Come on, to Barts. I need to have this analyzed." With a dramatic flourish of his coat, Sherlock turned on his heel and hailed a taxi at the end of the street.

"Where are you going?" Lestrade asked rushing to catch John.

"St. Barts, I think Sherlock found something. He's going to go analyze it. Call you when we find something, ok?" John told him, running to get in the cab before Sherlock left without him.

* * *

When they arrived at St. Barts, Sherlock jumped from the cab immediately and sped towards the building, as John followed behind him. They went straight to the morgue and Molly jumped when Sherlock came rushing in, coat swishing behind him. He avoided her gaze and went straight to his microscope. Molly blushed and looked down. She didn't bother asking if she could help, or what they were doing, she doubted she would be of any use. She contemplated how strange Sherlock had been acting around her after meeting Tom. He avoided her, spoke few to no words to her, and rarely visited the morgue, unless absolutely necessary.

"I wonder if he'll notice my ring's gone." Molly thought, remembering the massive fight she had had with Tom before she ended it. "Who am I kidding? Of course he'll notice! He's Sherlock bloody Holmes!" Molly went back to her paperwork, her thoughts still fixed on Sherlock and his dreamy eyes, luscious curls, that long swooping coat, and the beautifully intricate scarf he alwa-

Sherlock quickly took out the evidence and placed it on a small Petri dish. He began going through his procedure to identify the substance and before long, he slammed his palms on the table in triumph, yelling, "Silicon!" He quickly bent back down to write down the first element in the substance. He continued looking and found more unknown particles. One by one, he identified the substances and wrote them on a piece of paper. By the time he was finished he had a list of elements found in the evidence.

 _1\. Silicon - Brick dust_

 _2\. Vegetation - Blue grass_

 _3\. Mixture - calcium, silicon, aluminum, iron = Cement_

 _4\. Anagallis arvensis - Scarlet Pimpernel flower_

"John! Are you familiar with the _Scarlet Pimpernel Flower_?" Sherlock asked suddenly, standing up and rushing over to him. He whipped out his phone and began furiously typing.

"Umm, no not really. Mary told me about them once, I think. She said they weren't too common around here, although she did mention she saw one down by Siddons Lane. It's only a few blocks from Baker Street, there's an apartment complex there where she saw a few blooming." John answered. "Why?"

Sherlock was already on his way out the door. "I know where the victim was murdered!" He burst out the doors and headed for the lobby. John grabbed his stuff and ran after him. He dialed Lestrade and filled him in. "Siddons Lane!" he shouted into the phone before abruptly shutting it off and hurling himself into the cab. The car took of quickly and soon dropped them off in front of an apartment complex on Siddons Lane. Sherlock quickly rushed to the door and scanned the list of occupants.

"Aha!" he shouted joyously as he pushed a button labeled _"Suttons"_

"What is it?" John asked breathlessly, exhausted from trying catch up to Sherlock. He followed Sherlock's gaze and his eyes widened as he saw the name. "Suttons." he breathed. "Isn't that the sister? You don't think she's involved do you?" John asked Sherlock. Sherlock grinned and turned back to the door as an intercom beeped.

"Hello?" A shaky voice asked. The voice was female, and very hoarse. Sherlock deduced that whoever it was had been crying, possibly mourning the death of a family member, or regretting the murder they had committed.

"Lily Suttons?"

"Yes, what do you want?"

"I just wanted to give you my condolences about the loss of you sister. I knew her; we worked together a few years back. I'm Matt Staplen." Sherlock introduced himself, feigning crying.

"Oh. Thank you. I'm sorry; I don't think she ever mentioned you." Lily replied, hesitantly.

"No, I don't suppose she would have. She wouldn't have remembered me. We were friends, but she was so popular around the office and I, well, wasn't." Sherlock replied, his voice shaking. His hands were trembling, just to add effect, even though she couldn't see him. "That was Rose, eh? Always hanging with the popular crowd, right?"

"I'm sorry, what? Rose was always so withdrawn and shy. She hardly ever spoke to people. I'm sorry how did you know my sister again?" Lily asked, warily. Sherlock abruptly walked away, and headed towards the back alley, John following him. "Hello? Hello?" Click.

"What was that about?" John asked. Sherlock kept walking until he reached the end of an alley way. He bent down and pulled out his magnifying glass, searching for clues. A car pulled up and Lestrade stepped out, Donovan right on his heels. She was frowning, and walked with her arms folded. Lestrade approached Sherlock.

"What's this all about?" Lestrade asked, looking to Sherlock expectantly. Sherlock didn't answer, just kept looking for clues. Lestrade turned to John, who sighed and opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off by Sherlock.

"Aha!" Sherlock squealed again. He retrieved a necklace from behind a trashcan and turned to Lestrade. "Lily Suttons." Lestrade's eyes widened as he took the necklace wordlessly. Donovan snorted and looked at Sherlock incredulously.

"Seriously? The sister killed her? That's bloody ridiculous!" She exclaimed, throwing her hands up in disbelief. Sherlock scowled at her and began his explanation.

"Lily Suttons murdered her sister over money. Rose had been living with Lily and her fiancé for months, refusing to pay rent. Lily was going broke and her sister refused to help out. So they had a row, Lily tried to kick Rose out, and they got into a fight, which led to this." he motioned at the ground behind a dumpster and revealed a small pool of blood. "Lily killed her, and then dumped her body in the alleyway where we found her." Sherlock finished. Lestrade looked surprised, John too, but Donovan looked bewildered.

"How can you know all this?" She asked wildly. Sherlock smiled and pointed to the necklace in Lestrade's hands. The DI lifted it and saw a drip of blood on the heart in the middle. The back of the necklace read, "To Lily, From Danny. XOXO!"

"I'm sure if you analyze the blood it will match with the victims and no doubt there will be Lily's DNA all over it. You're Welcome!" Sherlock said brightly. Lestrade sighed and Donovan looked down, angry he had solved another one before her.

"Thanks for the help, Sherlock. I'll call this in and we'll get a team down here to arrest Lily."

"I don't think so." a cold voice answered, behind them all. The sound of a gun cocking had the two officers spinning around, drawing their guns on the small blonde in front of them. She pointed the gun at Sherlock, eyes wild, her hands shaking dangerously. John raised his hands protectively and Sherlock took a step forward.

"Lily, put the gun down. No more lives need to end." Sherlock gently assured her. She was sobbing and pointing her gun everywhere. "You're not a murderer. You don't need to do this."

"I-I don't k-know what h-happened! We were arguing and t-then s-she was on t-the ground. It was an accident!" Lily sobbed. Sherlock took another reassuring step forward. Lily's eyes widened and she pointed her gun at him. Sherlock stepped back and held his hands up.

"Stay back! I'll shoot you!" The two armed detectives raised their guns a little higher and Lily shot towards them, thinking they were advancing. She dove behind a dumpster as shots flew everywhere. John took cover behind a parked car, while the two officers hid behind some trashcans. In the flurry of activity, no one noticed Sherlock stumble to the ground behind them. As bullets sprayed, a sharp cry rang out as one of Sergeant Donovan's bullets found her target. Lily fell to the ground with a thud, and curled her hand around her chest. Donovan lowered her gun and Lestrade approached slowly, kicking Lily's gun out of her reach. She struggled to breathe as Lestrade tried to save her life, but the bullet hit her heart, and slowly, the life drained out of her. She died merely seconds before the ambulance Lestrade phoned for arrived. Everyone waited breathlessly, checking their bodies for wounds, until they heard a soft moan come from behind them. They turned to see Sherlock sprawled out on the ground, clutching his shoulder as it bled profusely. Spurred into action, Lestrade and John jumped to Sherlock's side, applying pressure to his shoulder. He cried out as the increased force on his wound brought tears to his eyes. The paramedics reached him and shooed the others away. They got Sherlock in the back of an ambulance and drove away, John riding with them. Lestrade and Donovan followed closely behind.

* * *

Half an hour later, Molly, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson, and John sat patiently in the hospital waiting room, waiting for news of Sherlock. They knew he would likely be fine, it was only a bullet to the shoulder, nothing he couldn't easily overcome. He was Sherlock Holmes, after all. A doctor came out and told them they could see him. His nametag read "Dr. Simions."

"The surgery went well, nothing major, and he'll be discharged, hopefully, later this afternoon." Dr. Simions said. Everyone breathed an air of relief and John asked, "Which room?"

"209, second floor." He replied quickly, immediately being whisked away by a nurse. John navigated through the hospital, leading the group to Sherlock's room. They arrived in front of a white door with a small card on the front, labeling the room. They heard shouting inside and Molly pushed her way through the door. They entered to see Sherlock yelling at some small nurse, towering high above her in a blue hospital gown, eyes fierce. He stopped shouting as soon as he saw them and relief flooded his face.

"You're alright?" he asked, sitting back down on the bed when the nurse ordered him to do so. She looked weary and quickly rushed out of the room, leaving some pills for Sherlock to take behind. John approached and looked at his friend. His shoulder was bundled up and wrapped in a sling, preventing him from moving it too much. Everyone approached and greeted him, happy he was fine. Molly hugged him lightly, and she felt Sherlock stiffen. She immediately drew back, worried she had jostled his injury, but no pain was evident in his face. He looked awkward and nervous around her, so Molly quickly departed, mumbling some dumb excuse about needing to get back to work. She left in a hurry; Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson close behind. Sherlock stood as his doctor entered.

"Well, Mr. Holmes, it looks like you're pretty much all set to go. I'll get you a pain prescription for that shoulder, and you need to take two tablets of this a day," the doctor shoved two bottles of some prescription drug in John's hands," and then you can be on your way." he finished brightly. Dr. Simions quickly filled out the prescription and gave it to John, while Sherlock changed in the bathroom.

"Ready." Sherlock announced, stepping out of the bathroom. He gave a curt nod to the doctor as thanks, and exited the room. John grabbed his coat and belongings and followed him, thanking Dr. Simions on the way out. Mycroft sent a private car down to escort the duo home, having already paid Sherlock's medical expenses. They arrived at 221B and Sherlock collapsed on the sofa. He recovered there the whole time and, soon, was back to solving crimes with his blogger.

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 **Please Review! I hope you all like it! Originally, I was going to continue this, but I decided to just make it a one-shot. Sorry? Anyways, hope you liked it, and please review! Also, please follow me! I'm happy to report that I have actually updated my other stories a lot, so yeah, review and follows are love!**


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